Local lifestyle columnists

Derriere dialing – who’s in your pocket?

By From page B5 | August 02, 2014

Me and my cellphone are walking down the avenue;

All alone and feelin’ kind of blue;  

The last part isn’t really true;

Not alone; 

Because of my cellphone.

I sometimes have company and don’t even know it. Pockets!

The other day I was in the middle of my regular morning walk when I heard this woman’s voice from out of nowhere. So it seemed at the time. I recognized the voice. It was Marilyn. I figured out that her voice was coming from my pants pocket – rather my cellphone in my pocket.

Later, when I talked with her, she told me she heard me talking to someone saying what a sweetheart and sweet girl someone was. I finally figured out that I was talking to Yvonne’s canine companion, Mitzi, or Tony’s friend, Shawna, also canine.

Apparently, I had accidentally pushed one of my speed dial buttons and the loudspeaker key at the same time. It brought back memories. That’s only the second time I have had a girl in my pocket.

The first time is a funny story. I have probably told it before, but it is still funny to me.

It was when I was courting my late sweet wife. She was quite a teaser. She would walk up behind me and put her hands in my pant’s pocket. Then she would laugh and laugh.

I happen to be a get-even-type person so before our next date, I cut out the two front pockets of my pants. As expected, she walked up behind me and put her hands in my pockets and screamed. Yes, she could laugh, but she sure knew how to scream, too. That was our last pocket adventure. The cutout pockets found a place of honor in her cedar chest.

Back to cellphones: I was in my office and heard the cellphone ring. I could hear it. I could tell it was somewhere close, but I couldn’t find it. After it stopped ringing, I finally found it in my pants pocket, of course.

When I go out, I always take the cell with me. Frequently, I have to dial its number from the land line and find it by its ring. The secrets of a low-vision person.

When I told my son about the voice in the pocket incident, he said, “Oh yeah, you butt dialed.”

I what?

“Butt dialed.”

He went on to tell me that when cells first came out, many people carried them in their back pocket and buttons were accidentally pushed, causing the phone to dial.  I thought to myself, “Sure, that really happened. Not.”

Later, when I mentioned it to the coffee group, Roger said, “Butt dialed! Sure, that happened to me. I was working in the garage with the phone in my back pocket when suddenly the police and  fire department arrived. When I asked what was going on, they said someone from this address  had dialed 911.”

Butt dialed. Sorry, I didn’t make it up.

I’m not putting cellphones down. My cell is my emergency communications system. It works when my computer and land line phone don’t. It is my Medic Alert, but far more portable. I like it. It works for me.

How is your cellphone treating you?

Reach Murray Bass at 427-0744 or [email protected]

Murray Bass


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